50 Things Draco's Not Allowed To Do
by IssaLee
Summary: One Slytherin, and a mission to make Harry Potter happy. Draco Malfoy has one month and the permission to whatever it takes. Insanity ensues. H x D slash.
1. Introduction

Well, Hello again!

Just wanted to say that this story's title and basic plot is all property of Barbarella, who has given me due permission to use these ideas. The underlying plot (the more complex one) is the one that belongs to me. Other than that, Harry Potter (unfortunately) does not belong to me. Lasttly, this fic is beta-ed by my ever faithful friend, Nikki-chan, and I must offer my immediate thanks to her right away. We retyped the first chapter three times!

Well, now...onto the fic!

Love much,

IssaLee


	2. Enter The Troublemaker

Disclaimer: La. Lalalala. Not mine.

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**enter the troublemaker**

**issalee **

**_

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Sunday, December 1st_**

_**Healer's Room in the Hospital Wing**_

_**2:45 PM **_

_**

* * *

**_

"Mr. Malfoy."

"My cordial greetings."

Draco Malfoy slid into the straight-backed chair he had been offered, sniffing a little disdainfully at it but otherwise looking wholly untouchable. Across from him and the well-polished mahogany desk was a blonde woman who looked to be in about her late twenties. She was sporting powder-blue skirt and suit attire, and her smile was one that seemed _too_ sweet to be sweet. As Draco glanced her over, she smiled even more widely.

"Am I to understand you know why we're here, Mr. Malfoy, and why I am now your new Mindstreamer?"

Draco paused for a moment, before looking glum and replying. "Yes."

"We are here," she continued, as though he hadn't said anything, "Because as of late your teachers and peers have been complaining about your behavior. Since the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named—"

"Voldemort," Draco supplied helpfully.

"He-Who-Must-_Not_-Be-Named," The woman said, looking slightly irritated. "Anyhow, since his defeat and your father's imprisonment, you seem to be quite—er—upset?"

Draco scowled faintly. "Malfoys don't get upset."

"Exactly!" She crowed, startling him to no ends. "You have been raised in such a way that it shows you exactly the way a Malfoy _must_ be raised. However, that is not true. You deserve to have your fun, Mr. Malfoy, and I do believe that all the things you have been doing now are ways to express this desire."

"Right…"

"I'm serious, Mr. Malfoy. Now, listen closely. Your teachers are going to fail you."

"_What!_"

"I'm sorry, but it's true." His Mindstreamer didn't bat an eyelash at Draco's obviously upset figure. "They believe your behavior is unacceptable, and although your grades are just fine, they do not think you comprehend what you're doing is wrong. I realize you wanted to be an (here she checked the papers on her desk) Auror, was it? You cannot pursue this career without the proper grades."

"I—I know what I'm doing wrong!" Draco said, standing up in shock. "I can change!" Being an Auror was his only way out of the dark world he'd been surviving in for most of his life. He could start over as one! He couldn't let this chance slip between his fingers—not now, not ever.

"However," the woman said, smiling sweetly again. "I have been given the rest of this month of December to help you get on the right track, but only if you do something for me."

"What is it?" Draco answered immediately. "I'll do anything." He hated the fact that he sounded weak, but if it was the only thing he could do…

"Another one of my patients has been rather depressed lately. I need him up and happy if I want to keep my job. You make him happy, but you have to get him into a relationship—it's the only thing I'm sure that will keep him happy. I don't care what methods you use, just do it."

Draco narrowed his eyes, searching her face for any signs of jokes, but she was completely serious. Unfortunately for her, Draco was not. "So I can use any method? Can I go crazy in the hopes that I'll make him smile and keep that memory so that he'll be happy enough to find a girlfriend or something?" He was kidding, of course, so her answer startled him.

"_Whatever method."_ She stressed. "But if you're going to 'go crazy', then I suggest you make a list of the things you aren't allowed to do. After this month is up, it'll come in handy. Do we have a deal?"

She reached out her hand, and Draco made as if to take it, but suddenly stopped. "Wait. Who's the guy?" He watched as the woman's face twisted a little.

"Remember how important this is, Mr. Malfoy," she warned, and then took a breath. "His name is Harry Potter."

Draco snatched his hand back, looking murderous. "I won't do it, even it means I can't be an Auror. To do _Potter_ a favor? Are you mad!" He hissed the last part as he was leaning close to her face, but then stooped to grab his satchel headed for the door.

"If you leave this office now, you're leaving behind your future, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco froze for a moment, mind working quickly. This whole thing could go well for him if it were any _other_ person, but it just _had_ to be Harry Potter, the damned Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Give-Up-And-Die! He ground his teeth together, ignoring the fact that it could possibly go bad for him if he walked out.

"I need something more," he pressed, knowing he wouldn't do it anyway, not even if this evil little—URGH—of a Mindstreamer offered him the world.

"A full recommendation to the Ministry of Magic, stating that you are of perfectly sound mind and that nothing need be kept from you. You have indeed changed you so-called 'evil' ways, and there is no need not to trust you."

Her hazel eyes bored into the back of his skull; he could feel them. Wincing slightly as he cursed under his breath, Draco turned the doorknob and opened the door. He paused only for a moment, and then turned so that he was facing her.

"I'll do it," he growled, "But you had better keep your word!"

He slammed the door shut behind him. His Mindstreamer smiled knowingly, and moved aside the shiny little plaque that held her name and credentials. Underneath it was a light yellow quill.

"Sunday, December 1st," she recited. The quill picked itself up, and immediately began scribbling onto a piece of notepaper. "After having watched Draco for those two months I had before he came here, I am sure my suspicions and his teacher's are correct."

She smiled, tapping her fingers thoughtfully against her chin.

"I am confident we can have him exactly where I want him by the time I am finished."

* * *

_**Northeastern Hallway**_

_**3:35 PM **_

* * *

Draco was in a foul mood as he stalked through the Hospital Wing and down the hallway. He couldn't _believe _the nerve of that woman, making him help—of all people—Potter! Scowling fiercely, he slumped against a wall and slid down. 

Mercury eyes wandered the hallway restlessly, and when he saw no one was there, Draco sighed. With the quiet that came after it, so did another noise. Feeling curious, Draco peered around. There was a slightly ajar door next to him, and light was spilling out. Faint murmurs were coming from it, and he smirked to himself.

Due to his new deal, he was able to do whatever he wanted…so why not try it out? Draco moved a little closer to the door, and then looked around the doorframe.

Inside, he was surprised to see the object of his musings perched on the edge of a desk, swinging his legs as the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio spoke to him. Harry didn't look particularly happy, as with every soft comment he cringed a little. Draco leaned in a fragment closer.

"…Hogsmeade this weekend, Harry? You didn't come last week." Hermione was saying, looking earnest. "Fred and George have set up a division of their shop around there. It's supposed to be really good!"

Draco wrinkled his nose. Didn't the Mudblood get it? She was trying _way_ too hard to please Potter if she was talking excitedly about jokes.

"Harry, mate, a new café's opened. Ginny told me about it, it's got loads and loads of great food that you can eat outside or inside, and they've got chess tournaments and they have a screen spelled to show you Quidditch games worldwide! You have to come around."

Harry shrugged. "I don't really feel like it. I'll just stay here, thanks."

"Doing what?" Hermione said, putting her hands on her hips. "For Merlin's sake, Harry, all you do is sit there and mope around all there."

Something sparked in the emerald green eyes, and Harry looked up. "I don't _mope_, Hermione! If you knew _me_, you'd know that!"

Draco didn't get to hear any more, as he was suddenly dragged backwards by someone. He sputtered indignantly as he was towed a good twenty feet down the hall before the grip loosened, and then he jumped up, brushing his clothes off and bringing his wand out to hex whoever it was. When he turned, however, he stopped in shock.

Professor Snape was glaring coldly at him, looking furious. "Draco, you may be a Slytherin in my own house, you may be a Prefect and Head Boy, you may be my _godson_ for Merlin's sake, but just because you are sorted in the unusually short list of people in my favor does not mean I will let you off with such demeaning behavior."

"W—what?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Eavesdropping, Malfoy, eavesdropping. Potter and his friends are allowed to use that room," the next part he said with carefully expressed disgust, "for their _personal_ issues. I have no wish to know what they are, and yet no one is allowed to hear. This includes _you_, Draconis, so I suggest you find your way to your next class."

"I can do whatever I want," Draco muttered as he adjusted his knapsack.

"What was that?" Snape asked sharply. Draco noticed this, and a glimmer of mischief entered his eye. Time to put that woman's foolishness to work…

"Actually, Professor, I _am_ allowed to eavesdrop."

"Do not correct your elders, Malfoy," Snape growled. "Me especially, as I have no qualms about hexing the students. And you have a detention with me on Saturday, just because of that."

"What?" Draco's jaw dropped. This was _not_ the way he had envisioned using his newfound power. "It's not my fault! My Mindstreamer told me—"

"Malfoy, stop blaming other people for your idiotic mistakes and _get to class_! Or so help me—Malfoy! Don't walk away from me, you rude little snot!"

But Draco wasn't listening. Fuming, he stalked away and towards the open doors leading outside. He had Herbology, and he would be damned if he was going to be late and get in trouble because of his godfather's prattling. Cursing his Mindstreamer and Potter all in one go, he pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment as he walked along.

Scowling, Draco scratched out his first four offenses.

_I am not allowed to eavesdrop._

_I am not allowed to blame others for my actions._

_I am not allowed to correct Professors, even if I know I'm right._

_I am not allowed to walk away when someone is talking to me, because it's rude._

As he scanned the list, the charmed bells rang and students began pouring out of their classes. Blaise Zabini soon found his friend and matched their strides as they walked along to their next class.

"How went the first session?" he asked, shying away a little.

"I would like to wring her neck and watch her squirm under a thousand _Crucios_ performed all at once."

Blaise moved away just a little bit more.

"Ah."

* * *

_**Greenhouse #2**_

_**4:15 PM **_

* * *

Draco grimaced as he eyed the odd plant they'd been given today. It looked vaguely like a sack filled with water; a water balloon, he'd heard some of the Muggleborns calling it. Professor Sprout was carefully holding one in her arms, rocking it back and forth as though it were a baby. 

"These," she said fondly, "Are called Praepinguis Conglobo." She waved her wand carefully with her free hand. "_Glomus_." A ball of string appeared, and it was roughly the size of the Praepinguis Conglobo.

"As you can see," she said, letting the ball hover a moment before making the string vanish, "They are rather small. These are commonly used as Pinguis. Can anyone tell me what that is?"

Hermione, of course, raised her hand, but to everyone's shock, so did Neville Longbottom. Sprout called on him.

"Er…er…Pinguis means oil, and Praepinguis means fat or richly oiled, while Conglobo means ball in Latin. So the balls have oil in them?"

"Excellent, Longbottom, ten points to Gryffindor." Sprout beamed at Neville, and then carefully placed the Praepinguis onto a seat. Swiftly, she pinched what looked like a hump at the top, and several disgusted groans broke out as a shiny, mucus-like liquid oozed out of it and landed into a pan. Sprout eyed her class with amusement.

"Oh, get over it. This is the oil all your food is cooked in!"

At that, most of the students suddenly let their breakfast and lunch visit the floor. Draco clutched at his stomach and leaned against Blaise, who had turned green. "I am _never_ eating again," the blonde stressed.

Sprout was frowning and looking slightly confused. "It's not that big a deal! Here, here, clean up the messes! You and your partners must each fill up a pan with the stuff, or else none of you will be able to eat dinner!"

Draco allowed a faint smile to cross over his face as he saw Ronald Weasley retching violently into a flowerpot. Figures, that the one person who ate the most in the school should feel the effects the most.

He glanced around and saw that Harry was still blank-faced, picking at the goo inside Sprout's pan with some mild disgust, and Hermione was trying to subtly push their Praepinguis away. Ashe was looking there, Harry looked up. Their eyes met for a moment and only a moment—because Ron, who had been staggering back to his seat, turned sharply to retch again. Unfortunately, he hit a small; suspiciously fuzzy looking white tree and it gave out a mewling noise.

Ron yelped and jumped backwards, in the process knocking over the pan of gooey liquid. Sprout yelled in panic and the class all watched in morbid fascination as the oil fell to the ground, and then sizzled on it.

Sprout looked nervous as she tried to reassure them. "Now, now, class, it's only doing that because none of the magical properties that would make it dangerous have been taken out of it yet. Don't touch it, Mr. Finnegan!"

She didn't have to yell the last part. Seamus drew back as the oil blew itself into a bubble, expanding more and more. Sprout grabbed her hat from where it had fallen in the chaos and shoved it onto her head as she removed her wand, smiling happily.

"Nearly forgotten about that! It'll grow into a bigger Praepinguis, so we'll have a lot of oil for the house-elves!" As the bubble continued to swell, she looked over her shoulder. "I would get out of here if I were you!"

Draco shoved away whoever it was that was in front of him and followed Blaise out of the greenhouse. He was paler than usual but didn't look ruffled on the outside; on the inside, he was planning how best to order catered meals from outside of Hogwarts.

As the last student (Parvati Patil) trickled out of the greenhouse and shut the door, there was a loud popping noise. A second later, the greenhouse glass was covered in the noxious goo.

This time, even Draco had to run for a bush.

* * *

_**Great Hall**_

_**7:00 **_

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Later that night, at dinner, Draco sat stiffly at seat, eyes riveted to the plate he had in front of him. Not one seventh-year had touched their plate, and neither had most of the other grades. It seemed the word had spread quickly. 

"What is it?" Pansy, on his left, questioned him. She had heard about the whole thing of course, and was poking at a carrot.

"I think," Draco replied, looking suddenly ashen, "It's the cause of my early departure." Without another word, he stood and stumbled out of the room. Blaise shook his head as he watched Draco leave, and turned to Pansy, smiling slightly.

"His revenge against the Hufflepuffs will _so_ be something I want to be a part of." His keen eyes searched out the Gryffindor table, and he watched with a queer smile on his face as Hermione Granger rapped her knuckles against Harry Potter's hands. The boy wonder leapt up from where he had been watching the door, and then merely nodded when Hermione said something to him.

Pansy brought Blaise back from his thoughts. "Why are you looking at the Gryffs if it's the Hufflepuff we're talking about?" She looked over at the table, and then looked back, grinning wickedly. "Does our little Blaise of Glory have someone on his mind?"

Blaise frowned.

"Shut up and eat your Pinguis."

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Hey, so once again, thanks much to Barbarella, for letting me borrow her plot. Reviews shall be appreciated, considered, and eventually fed to my muses with caviar and much, much wine. Also, you may notice some things (such as the Mindstreamer (THAT NAME BELONGS TO ME!)) seem familiar. That is because they are also used in Mournings Of An Evil Little Cockroach, my other fic currently on a mini-hiatus. And I will update Lifeblood soon. I promise.


	3. Draco Ceases To Desist

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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**draco ceases to desist **

**issalee **

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Monday, December 2nd_**

_**Just Outside Of Slytherin Common Rooms**_

_**7:00 AM**_

Draco scowled faintly as he walked down the hall the next day. Christmas decorations were already being put up, and he had had a rather nasty incident earlier on that morning with a fifth-year who thought herself to be a clever thing, and had set up mistletoe and waited. Thankfully, Millicent Bulstrode was on hand, and Draco merely shoved the hulking Slytherin at the fifth year and left before anything happened that he'd regret seeing later.

He wasn't twenty feet down the hallway when someone called his name. Turning, he saw Blaise striding quickly towards him. "What?" He snapped.

Blaise shrugged, as he caught with Draco. "Nothing. Just wanted to know if you were going to exact your revenge on Professor Sprout for making you so hungry."

"Can't attack the professors," Draco mumbled as he scanned the hallway for first years to hex. "Must keep up the idea that I'm a well-respected member of the school who would never dare anything that could get him kicked out."

"Oh, but you screwed the image sideways in first year."

Draco snorted, but didn't say anything. Blaise smirked. When it came to getting Draco to lighten up, he knew exactly how. Carefully and quickly, so as to make it look like an accident, he dropped the slip of parchment he was holding in his hand on the ground. Draco rolled his eyes and bent to pick it up, but Blaise plastered a panicked look on his face and pushed his friend away.

"No, don't! I'll get it!" The dark-hared boy leaned forward to pick it up, but stopped as he felt a wand tip under his chin. Draco smiled thinly as he picked up the parchment, and let Blaise up.

"What's so important that you'd touch my person, Zabini?" Draco asked.

Blaise scowled darkly. "Give it here, Malfoy! I don't have time for these games. I need that back!" Draco waggled a finger in his face.

"Oh, but I'd dearly like to know what this is! A love note, perhaps? Or maybe even—dare I say it—the money to renew your subscription to Playwizard?"

Blaise blushed at that, and Draco smirked superiorly as he unfolded the parchment with a few deft movements of his fingers. He took his gaze away from Blaise long enough to glance it over, and then his expression changed to that of surprise.

"What're these? They look like directions!"

Blaise's blush deepened. "Er…well…mate, you know about all those girls that—er…want me to come and visit them, right? Well…they gave me the directions to their common rooms, and I wrote them all down, and now I need it back because I'm seeing Annalise—the Hufflepuff—later on tonight!" He pleaded.

One golden eyebrow quirked up. "You bedded a Hufflepuff? Shame, Zabini, eternal damnation and utter shame upon you and your household."

"Thanks, Draco, thanks a lot," Blaise replied bitterly. "Can I just have the crap parchment back now?" Unfortunately for him, Draco was grinning rather wickedly.

"Blaise, here in my hands—"

"Hand."

Draco ignored him. "I hold the key to one successful morning. This parchment has on it the locations of the entrances of every common room in the school—"

"Not Slytherin."

Draco glared at him this time, but continued nonetheless. "Ok, then, _almost_ every common room in the school. The point is, they also have the passwords, and I think I can cause extensive damage with this."

"No way." Blaise said, holding up his hands. He started walking down the hallway. "You can keep it, then! I'm going to breakfast."

"Blaise, come on," Draco tried to sway him as he caught up. "I _know_ you want to do this. Shagging can't keep you satisfied for long. We need to play some pranks!"

"No, _you_ do." Blaise's face fell a little. "You get free reign, now, at least for a month. If I get kicked out of school, that's it. I'll play pranks, but this is a major thing."

"You're absolutely _no_ fun."

"Yeah, I guess so." The dark-haired boy looked thoughtful. "D'you think I should get a Mindstreamer and an arch nemesis? Maybe it'll work out better for me that way. Or—seeing as you can't stand him—I'll just take Potter! Yeah, and maybe afterwards, I'll shag him silly…"

Draco looked askance, not because of the shagging comment (please; it was impossible not to be friends with the eccentric Blaise Zabini and not know he was bisexual as a—er—fig leaf) but because it was _Harry Potter_ they were talking about.

"Are you serious? Tell me you're joking!"

"Oh, but Draco, can't you see it!" Blaise closed his eyes, faking ecstasy. "Potter's head tipped back while he screams your name—'Oh, Draco! _Oh, Draco!_'—and his dark eyelashes fluttering wildly while he eventually just let out this long, husky moan and then him panting 'I love you' over and over again when you both are done and—"

"Enough!" Draco cried, and pushed Blaise forward. They had managed to walk all the way to the Great Hall, and as Blaise stumbled into the large room, he quickly righted himself and turned just as Draco tore off down the hallway.

Blaise let himself use the Malfoy Smirk©, just for once. He'd earned it, what with him being a wonderful actor and all.

Oh, and also the added bonus of seeing that blush on his best friend's face. Draco Malfoy, when thoroughly aroused, was quite a cute specimen.

_**Northern Castle**_

_**Basement Level Corridors**_

_**7:37 AM**_

Draco cursed Blaise for the nth time as he stumbled across the large courtyard, and into the north side of the school. This was the much less commonly known wing of the school, which the Hufflepuffs seemed to frequent. Draco snorted in disbelief as he stalked past classrooms he hadn't seen since First Year, where teachers took lesser or better students into their classes. He'd taken Advanced Potions in one room for three years straight, until it became the norm for seventh-years.

And then, just when he was started to wonder if he had read the directions wrong (which was certainly possible, when you looked at Blaise's mess of handwriting) he stopped short of a large tapestry depicting the wildlife at Hogwarts before the castle had been built.

Draco went up to the tapestry, and carefully, gently kneaded at the dirt as though he were getting ready to dig. As he did so, he whispered the current password. "_Flosculus_."

He stepped back in barely hidden surprise as the dirt rumbled for a moment, and then rolled back upon itself as though it were being wrenched apart in a giant earthquake. The rolling stopped only when both sides of the tapestry were split, and a medium-sized chasm was left, extending all the way to the ground. Draco didn't hesitate before ducking his head under and swinging his legs in.

Sadly for Draco, he realized too late that it was not a passageway, but a slide. He barely had enough time to let out a short yell of surprise before he was flipping head over heels. Although the slide was short, it felt like an eternity to him as he tumbled into the Hufflepuff common room.

The first thing he noticed was the abundance of soft, cream colored tones and the crackling fire. Everything else was basically just some sort of crystal recreated to look like polished soil, and he gazed around with a sort of repressed admiration for it all.

A sudden fiendish smile broke out on his face as he rubbed his hands. All the Hufflepuffs should be at breakfast…even the ones with a free period would be locked up in their rooms, getting some extra sleep. The things he could do…

_**Just Outside Of Hufflepuff Common Rooms**_

_**7:54 AM**_

Draco clambered out of the chasm, gasping for breath. He was _sure_ beyond sure that there was a better way out, but he didn't have the time to think of it. Classes started in another six minutes, and he was still racing for the Ravenclaw common room. He hesitated for a moment, though, and glared spitefully at the chasm.

"_Commuto Signum_," he murmured, pointing his wand at it. The chasm shimmered for a moment, and then a nearly translucent veil covered it. Draco thought for a moment, before smiling wickedly. "Sprout Sucks Pinguis."

The veil shimmered again and then vanished, with the chasm closing just behind it. Smiling, Draco twirled his wand for a moment, and then dashed off in the opposite direction.

_**High Eastern Tower (#2)**_

_**Seventh Floor**_

_**8:03 AM**_

Draco slid into a small wall alcove just as a small group of students dashed down the hallway. He thanked the Gods he had a free period, and than, peering out to make sure no one was there, he sprinted down the rest of the corridor.

At the end of the hall, in plain view of anyone who dared try to come up all seven flights, there was a brilliant door made entirely of sapphires and various mechanisms pulling and pushing all at the same time. Draco stood for a moment, transfixed, before he snapped out of it and walked to the front of the door.

He glanced down at the instructions again, and then sighed. "_Sophia Et Pallas._" A clicking noise startled him, and it was followed quickly by a low humming. Draco scanned the door until he found what he was looking for—a small section of sapphire, cut away from the door to make a sort of block. Draco pressed down on it, repeated the password again, and in the same instant drew his wand and completed an un-locking charm upon the door.

He was instantly gratified when the door swung open on its hinges. The blonde Slytherin peeked around it slowly, and almost gasped.

The Ravenclaw common room had a dark blue carpet, and light blue walls and shades. In the middle of it all was a large fountain that spewed—remarkably—blue water, and around that were several navy blue armchairs and some mahogany tables set up between them.

"Son of a—the Ravenclaws are holding out on us!" Draco breathed. He felt a slight twitch of anger for Blaise, who had been here many times, but had not told him. Draco made a silent resolution to fix up the Slytherin common room, and also to punch Blaise in the face. He didn't want to risk going in; the Ravenclaws were definitely smart kids, so he just stepped back and waved his wand in a semi-circle.

"_Amissio Lector_!" The door's frame glittered with a dull pink before fading away. Draco rubbed at his hands gleefully before glancing back at his magicked watch. He wanted to make it to the Gryffindor common room quickly, so that he could have time for breakfast also.

Draco took the parchment from his pocket, and read over the last thing on the list. He rolled his eyes; _another_ tower? Did these Gryffs copy _everything_? Had they no shame?

He decided he really hated stupid castles and their towers, and set off again.

_**Fat Lady's Portrait**_

_**Seventh Floor**_

_**8:27 AM**_

"Look!" Draco shouted. "I know the password! It's _virtus_! Now why can't you let me in?" The Fat Lady looked huffily down at him.

"Darling, I can't even be sure you're a Gryffindor! I've never seen you before, and you have a seventh year's badge on you. Let me see your House badge, and then I'll let you in."

Scowling even as he charmed his robes to show off Gryffindor colors, Draco showed her. "There. _Now_ can I go in?"

The Fat Lady still looked doubtful, but she ended up rolling her eyes as she swung outwards. "Children these days are _so_ rude!"

Draco ignored her as he clambered into the portrait hole, and gazed around at the rather—for lack of a better word—_common _common room. Snorting lightly, the Slytherin crossed it and looked around. There was a hall branching off, and one leading to a set of stairs. Which one would he take…?

_I can't take any more stairs_, he mused, and strode off down the hallway. Feeling slightly like a spy, he kept to the shadows. He was so intent on his keeping silent that he nearly missed the creaking of a door opening. When three boys Draco knew only too well spilled out of the room, the best he could do was flatten himself into the wall and hope no one noticed him.

"I can't believe that!" Seamus Finnegan said, laughing. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Susan Bones said that she was trying to get in before breakfast, and then it wouldn't open. She started crying—along with all the other Hufflepuffs in the school."

"Guys too?" Ron asked, looking perturbed.

"Guys too," Harry confirmed. "She came into the Great Hall after you two left, and started telling Sprout. A bunch of other Hufflepuffs at their table started off too. I feel kind of sorry for them."

It was obvious Seamus and Ron did not share his sentiments, as they were leaning against each other in an attempt not to fall over as they laughed. Draco had a muscle spasm himself, with the image of the usually respectable Susan Bones falling over herself as she tried to get into her common room.

Harry, however, looked untouchable as ever. "McGonagall's trying to come up with what the new password is. Whoever did it though—I salute them. It must have taken them ages to plan that."

_Oh, yeah, all of thirty seconds_, Draco thought sarcastically. But he couldn't help but feel a slight swell of pride as he heard Harry Potter congratulate him. _If only he knew…_

"Harry! Ron! Where are you two?"

"Sounds like Hermione's checking to make sure you two didn't do it," Seamus snickered. Ron looked a tad miserable as the trio made their way into the common room. Draco waited twenty seconds and a heartbeat before he followed, still keeping to the walls.

He got there just as Ron and Harry finished giving her their alibis. She didn't look satisfied, though. "Whoever's doing it has gotten to the Ravenclaw common room too! Luna was going through it to get something—"

"Probably some weird sort of pet," Seamus whispered. Ron had to work quite hard not to laugh outright.

"—And when she came back out, she went straight to Divination. Trelawney asked her to read something, and Luna was suddenly illiterate. Nearly half of the Ravenclaws had already been going to their common room to try and find out what had happened to the Hufflepuff's anyhow, but now they simply swarmed there."

"What happened?" Harry asked, as he was probably the only one still breathing properly. His eyes were twinkling good-naturedly, however, and it looked like he was actually using all of his control to stop his lips twitching.

"We have one whole house who can't read." Hermione finished, pursing her lips angrily as Seamus and Ron collapsed into laughter. "Oh, forget you two! We have to go to class _now_, or else they'll think we did it!"

"But we have a free period!" Ron moaned.

"Which we can spend in the library," The witch snapped irately. "Come on, hurry up. You've already left your knapsacks on the chairs, let's go!"

Draco waited until the boys had skulked out after Hermione before slipping away from his hiding place. He smiled as he climbed out of the portrait hole, thinking of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

"Mustn't forget to leave the Gryffindors a parting present!" He chirped, as the Fat Lady swung closed. She didn't even have time to see who her attacker was before she saw stars. When they cleared, no one was there.

The Fat Lady harrumphed as she glanced around again, and then she settled down, waiting for someone to pass by so she could nit-pick their lives again. She was not to be disappointed. A gaggle of girls all headed for the entrance, all looking quite pleased with themselves. The Fat Lady opened her mouth to ask for the password, but what came out was not what she intended to.

"And why are _you_ all so happy? You still look like some miserable piles of hippogriff feces that's been trampled over and over again, eaten by a chimera and then wedded to Argus Filch!"

The girls looked at her in shock, and several burst into tears. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, who were passing by, did simultaneous double takes as they saw the crowd. The Fat Lady looked over the heads of the sobbing girls and leered at them.

"What's so interesting? Oh, wait, I forgot—with the amount of action _you_ two get in your lives, this is the most interesting thing you'll ever see!"

"What?" Blaise cried, scandalized. "I'll have you know I'm a Slytherin Sex God!"

"Yeah? In what universe is this?"

"At least I'm not some old hag who eats her sorrows away!"

"_I'll have you know I only did that once!"_ The painting roared.

"_But you did it!"_ Blaise yelled back.

"Pompous brat!"

"Arrogant elder!"

"Skinny as a stick!"

"Yeah? You're so fat—I bet if you fell in the lake you'd make the Giant Squid die of dehydration! All the water would overflow!"

"You're so skinny if you turned sideways you'd be reported missing!" The Fat Lady glared irately for a moment before crossing her arms. "This is over! Get out my sight, Twiggy!"

Blaise glowered back, and stood his ground. "It ain't over till the Fat Lady sings, and I've heard you haven't learned _yet_."

The girls by now had stopped crying, and were gathered anxiously around the portrait and Blaise. One of them had rushed off to find others. Theodore looked around anxiously, and tapped Blaise on his shoulder.

"Er…we could get in trouble for this, you know?"

Blaise made a face. "She started it." And then louder, "So finish it!"

And so began the start of nearly thirty wasted minutes of their lives.

_**Hogwarts Kitchens**_

_**8:45 AM**_

Draco leaned against a wall, stifling a smile as he watched the timid house-elf who had been ordered to serve him come forward. It was a light purple in color, with vividly violet eyes.

"W—w—w—w—w—what will Master Malfoy be wanting?" It squeaked. "Elsie want to serve him good!"

Draco mock-frowned as he thought for a moment. "How about—house-elf toes?" He laughed, then, as Elsie gaped openly at him. "I'm joking. A sandwich would be nice. Surprise me on the kind."

Elsie, looking relieved, bowed and vanished in the same instant. Draco rolled his eyes and busied himself instead with writing out more restrictions.

* * *

_I am not allowed to change the password to the Hufflepuff common room and laugh when they cry because they can't get in._

_I am not allowed to spell the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room to make everyone who goes through it forget how to read._

_I am not allowed to hex the Gryffindor portrait to insult anyone who passes by it._

_I am not allowed to know the entrances to any house dormitories but my own._

* * *

"Is Master needing anything else?" 

Draco peered over the top of his list, ready to start huffing irritably before he realized it was just Elsie with the sandwich. He realized that he had a sudden headache and things were a little blurry before righting themselves.

"Er, thanks," he said quickly, upon realizing Elsie was still there and staring at him curiously. "Do you have anything I can—oh." Elsie had already produced a tray with a cup of pumpkin juice, and Draco balanced the whole thing on his knee. "Thanks."

"Elsie is delighted to serve Master Malfoy, sir! Elsie's own father used to serve under the Malfoys!"

"Weawy?" Draco said around the sandwich.

"Yes!" Elsie nodded again, obviously happy that he seemed interested. She looked around, as though making sure no one was listening before turning back. "Elsie's father says he didn't like Master Malfoy's father very much, but he says Master Malfoy was just fine."

"'Ankh Oo." Draco swallowed, and smiled at her sheepishly. "I mean, thank you. Who's your dad, by the way?"

"Dobby."

Draco jumped, nearly dropping the tray but catching it in time. He pushed it towards Elsie, who had been looking over his shoulder with awe but she caught it quickly just as he stood up and turned, eyes already coloring with anger.

"Potter," he spat automatically. "What did you say?"

Harry was looking at him with his head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised in an obvious imitation of him. Draco growled inwardly.

"Are you deaf, Malfoy? I said, her father's name is Dobby." Harry coughed. "Er…Elsie…you can stop now."

Draco turned back, and nearly burst out laughing. The house-elf was attempting to bow to the most honorable Harry Potter, and balance Draco's tray at the same time. She ended up with the tray balanced on the back of her head as she bowed, and her face was getting dangerously low to the ground. Draco rolled his eyes and marched over, removing the tray. The house-elf's head immediately sprang up and she fell over backwards. Sighing, Draco lifted her by the back of the awkward mixture of tea-cozy and collared shirt that she wore, setting her back on her feet. When he turned back, Harry was staring at him as though he'd sprouted another ear.

"What?" Draco ground out irritably.

"Nothing," Harry said, although Draco was sure whatever Harry was thinking had nothing to do with—well, nothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but then the door to the kitchens swung open.

"Harry!" Seamus all but fell into the portrait, panting like the devilish fiend he was. "Harry, the Fat Lady's gone mad! Blaise Zabini's stuck yelling at her! Hey, is that Malfoy? Harry—where's my tuna sandwich?"

But he found himself speaking to empty air, as both boys were gone. Seamus kicked at the ground irritably.

"They could've stayed till I was done eating…"

_**9:00 AM**_

_**Outside of Gryffindor Common Room**_

By the time Draco and Harry arrived, a huge crowd had gathered. Second classes of the day had started, and students should have been there. 7th year Slytherins and Gryffindors who were taking Advanced Potions, in fact, were supposed to be with Snape right now. Unfortunately none of them were; Blaise and the Fat Lady had seen to that.

Draco pulled his friend away and glared at him. Blaise was purple in the face, and was breathing heavily. "Are you out of your mind? What happened to staying clean until school's over?" he hissed.

"She started it!" Blaise protested, as soon as he recognized who it was. "She said that I wasn't a Sex God!" After which he promptly fell into Draco's arms, half-sobbing. Draco glanced behind him to Harry, who looked as though he was trying to decide whether to laugh or force-feed Blaise Prozac.

"It's a touchy point with him," he explained.

"EVERYTHING IS A TOUCHY POINT WITH HIM!" The Fat Lady screeched, and Draco dropped Blaise. The black-haired boy hit the other Slytherin's foot, and as Draco drew his foot up and scowled at his friend, he lost his balance and fell over backwards.

"Watch for the—!" somebody screamed, but it was too late.

Even the Fat Lady stopped screaming to watch in undisguised horror as Draco knocked into Harry, and the two fell straight towards the stairs.

At that moment, one very livid Hermione Granger turned up. She had been sent up by Snape to find out where exactly all her classmates had gotten to, but as she reached the portrait, she froze. Hermione watched as her best friend fell, knocking his head once already against the topmost stair before flipping over, and then took immediate action.

"_Adhaeresco_!"

A bright blue light shot from her wand, and someone screamed in terror.

* * *

Me likey the poom-poom - er, I mean, the drama. And SPOT CONLAN, YOU ROCK MY WORLD. Cuz you look like Draco Malfoy from the 1800's...er, that is all. TA!

Thank you and luff to: **Midnight Rose, Elektra 107, Phantomandwampirelover, and Jamaloo **(Hey, thanks for reviewing nearly all of my fics! BTW, about what you said about my one-shot, Object of His Affections - oh, yes, I do know I'm good. JK! See, so modest too...!) 


	4. Why Draco Hates First Years

Disclaimer: I don't—ah, screw it. Anyone want chocolate instead?

_15. I am not allowed to use my authority as a prefect to 'confiscate' my classmates' things just because I think they should be mine._

_16. I am not allowed to eat my housemate's sweets and blame in on Goyle._

_17. I am not allowed to kick people even if I think they deserve it._

_18. I am not allowed to tell first years there are free unicorn rides being giving away in the Forbidden Forest.

* * *

_

_**Tuesday, December 3rd**_

_**Hospital Wing**_

_**Beds #14 and #15**_

_**8:30 AM**_

Seamus Finnegan thought everything was funny.

So of course, this was no exception. He was sitting in the plush crimson armchair next to Harry Potter's bed in the Hospital Wing, and grinning inanely as he looked around.

"So, Harry," he began seriously, and trying desperately not to look at the Gryffindor. "Maybe they should just name this whole thing after you, eh? You're in here enough!"

"Seamus, I swear to freaking Merlin I'll—"

"—and look, someone's left you flowers! Oh, wait, that was 'Mione…hmm, you know where she and Ron are now? Maybe in the library…"

"—truss you up by your feet and hex you silly _and_ sideways!"

"Snogging! Maybe they're snogging." Seamus wrinkled his nose and turned to Harry; his first and last mistake. "Oh—oh—oh—Merlin!" And the Irish boy collapsed into apoplectic laughter.

Harry scowled darkly. Wrapped around his head was what Seamus had brilliantly designated 'The Quirrel'. It was just a swathe of bandages Pomfrey had made him wear, as his head had suffered a rather nasty crack and he'd only woken up a few hours ago. Seamus had decided the turban-looking thing was hilarious, and made sure Harry knew it.

"Finnegan, you wouldn't mind dying anytime soon, now would you?"

Harry looked up, and his scowl deepened somewhat. Here was the cause of this Torture-By-Seamus; Draco Malfoy. Of course, what with him being soft and all, Harry couldn't stay mad as he watched Draco Malfoy hop towards his own bed, supported only by crutches. Madame Pomfrey, watching icy-eyed as the Slytherin had been brought into the Hospital Wing, had just _happened_ to forget the spell that would make the bones set in their own place. Of course, so had everyone else who knew it.

"Oh, but it's the—the _Quirrel_, Malfoy!" Seamus, being Seamus, was the only Gryffindor who probably didn't care about anything or anyone being in other Houses, as long as they were hot. And Draco, being Draco, _was_.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of his bed, glaring spitefully at the clean white cast that was encompassing most of his foot. "This is all your fault, Potter," he growled.

Harry looked scandalized. "My fault? Malfoy, who charmed the portrait? Who has a psychotic best friend?"

Draco smirked. "Maybe the former was me, but are you so sure about the latter?"

They both glanced at Seamus, who was still laughing. Harry frowned. "Let's say he doesn't count. Where's your friend, anyway?" Draco glared at him.

"Where're _yours_?" he shot back. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Where have you been, Draco?" Seamus said suddenly. Apparently, he had grown tired of making fun of Harry's turban-thing. "You've been gone since a little after Harry-Beary woke up, I saw the professors talking to you _before_ that. Is there something going on?"

"Finnegan. Shut. Up."

But Harry was now curious. "Yeah, Malfoy, what's going on? You aren't supposed to leave the Hospital Wing until tomorrow!" But Draco stayed tight-lipped.

Seamus, then, being Seamus, decided to do something.

He all but sprinted over to Draco's bed, and as the Slytherin watched in obvious shock, he took up his wand and muttered something. By the time Draco had finally gotten enough sense back to pull his foot up, written in some sort of flashing, sparkly pink and glittery colors were the words "Draco + Harry TRUE LOVE 4EVAH!"

"_Potter_!" Draco yelled. "What is _wrong_ with him! Can you see this?" And he pushed Seamus away, flashing his cast indignantly. "Make him take it off!"

And if it wasn't enough that Draco Malfoy had sparkly pink writing covering the length of his whole leg, the fact that he was whining and nearly begging to Harry made it all the more unbearable. He smiled, and after a moment of slight shock, Seamus joined in.

Draco looked back and forth between the two and groaned as he attempted to suffocate himself with his pillow.

_**9:00 AM**_

_**Still In Hospital Wing**_

_**Minus Seamus**_

"Hey, Malfoy?"

Draco, who was propped up against his pillows and reading (_How To Hex Him Horribly, by Erie Queerie_). He looked at Harry with a less than friendly look on his face before returning to his book.

"What, Potter?"

Madame Pomfrey had come in earlier, and much to Seamus' dissapointmet, immediately kicked him out and removed the Quirrel. Now all that was left on Harry's head was a standard wrapping, looking much like a headband. Harry kept rubbing at it consciously, and Draco in turn kept glaring at him. Harry had finally stopped, and thus a period of silence, until his question.

"Where _were_ you really? This morning, I mean."

Draco sighed, closed the book, and kneaded at his forehead. He had another headache. Like, _really_. And suddenly, he wished he wasn't in the same room as Harry anymore.

"You really want to know, Potter? Fine. I'm getting—" here he grimaced, and sighed. "—Glasses. Pomfrey says I need them else my eyes will end up getting worse. I can start magically repairing them after I've worn the glasses for a few months or so."

Draco kept his eyes on the book, very much aware that even if he attempted to read it he'd end up attempting to squint again. Fortunately, all Harry did was utter a small 'oh'. Draco, surprised at this reaction, looked up.

Green eyes met silver, and Harry said, very solemnly: "Hey, now you'll look just like me!"

Draco cursed. "Way to go, Potter, you've ruined _another_ moment."

"But now you can't call me four-eyes!" Harry seemed to be secretly thrilled, although he hid it well. "And wait until I tell Ron and Hermione!" He got a misty-eyed look as though he was imagining Draco's demise, and Draco swung his legs over the edge of the bed, looking mournful.

"Potter…can I tell you something?"

Harry, shocked at the rapid mood change, sat up and stepped gingerly off the bed and onto the floor. "Er…what's up?" Draco looked around, eyes wide.

"I'd rather not say it so loudly, if I could help it."

Harry, now genuinely curious, stood and walked over to Draco's bed, and then leaned a little closer. "Yeah?" He only blinked in confusion when a wide grin unfurled at the corners of Draco's mouth.

"Malfoy, wh—_OW!_" Harry jumped back, holding onto his throbbing shin with eyes half-closed in pain. "What was that for?"

Draco, now happy that his revenge had been exacted, patted the cast happily. "Looks like this thing has some good uses after all…"

Harry merely glared.

_**9:30 AM**_

_**STILL in Hospital Wing**_

_**Albeit, Healer's Room**_

Draco sulked as he sat in the straight-backed chair once more, glaring across the desk to the woman who was _still_ smiling that scarily sweet smile (A/N: Hoorah for alliteration!)

He noticed this time, her plaque was turned towards him, and realized he'd never known her first name. There, engraved in the gold plaque were the words _Ivanna C. London_.

"I.C. London?" Draco asked incredulously, forgetting his discomfort for a moment. "Your initials are I.C. London?"

His Mindstreamer glared irately at him, her smile slipping for a moment. "Yes, and before I was married the initials were I.C. Caucus. We're getting off topic, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco, who was storing this information away for a later date nodded. "You called me in here? I was just about to sleep, you know."

"According to the nurse, you and Mr. Potter were attempting to tear each other's guts out." She sighed. "Did I not proposition you one of the greatest deals you have ever heard, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Potter's my _enemy_!" Draco said indignantly. "I warned you of that way before!"

Ivanna rolled her eyes. "So I've heard. But I _did_ hear from Severus that a Seamus Finnegan went skipping into his classroom, proclaiming that 'Draco Malfoy made Harry smile!' Is this true?"

Draco thought back to the writing on his cast and what had happened. "Yes. Finnegan wrote something on my cast and I was upset and acted—er, the point is, yeah, I suppose I did make him smile."

"And what was written on this cast?" Ivanna asked.

"Aren't we supposed to be discussing what I'm supposed to do?" Draco asked irritably, skirting the subject as subtly as he could.

"Of course!" Ivanna said brightly, and her eyelashes fluttered. "But I've just had a brain spasm!"

"Does this mean you'll die?" Draco asked with barely hidden excitement.

"No! But Mr. Malfoy, think of the possibilities! Obviously, seeing as what Mr. Finnegan wrote was a direct attack upon Harry himself—"

"You _knew_!"

"—Then you must do the same!" His Mindstreamer continued as though she hadn't heard him. "Do something that attacks him _directly_!"

"Can I Avada him?"

"But in a gentle way. And please, Mr. Malfoy, consider this; I was talking to Harry in his last session a few days ago, and he told me something very interesting about you."

Draco quiets for a moment, and she smiles at him, but the smile is very close to being kind this time. "He says that he doesn't believe you're totally evil; if someone gave you a chance, he said he was sure they'd find something good buried down there."

Draco was silent as she waited, and then he looked down at his cast-encased foot. _Harry Potter_, his _arch-nemesis_, had said that about _him_? She had to be lying—there was just now way—damn Potter, and all his Gryffindor honor.

"Now, how about we go out and give it another try, eh?"

Draco swept out of the room as best as he could on the crutches, vaguely feeling as though someone had punched him in his stomach.

_**Wednesday, December 4th**_

_**6:55 AM**_

_**Slytherin Common Rooms**_

Draco sat on a couch in the Common room, his good leg curled under him as he reclined against the back of the couch. His mind was fast at work, and as he chewed slowly on one of the chocolates he'd found in a box on the table in front of him, his mind slowly began to form a plan.

"Oi, Dr—is that my candy?" Theodore Nott plodded down the stairs. "I was saving that!" the blonde Slytherin blinked as he turned to stare at Nott.

"No, I am not eating your candy. Goyle ate most of it. I merely had second pickings."

Theodore didn't seem as though he believed it, but he sighed and rolled his eyes anyways as he swiped his chocolate from off the table, collapsing next to Draco. He twisted the slim silver ring on his finger as he contemplated something, completely ignoring Draco's glare.

"Are you leaving anytime soon?" Draco asked finally.

"Nope."

"Dying, then?"

"Nope."

"I could make it come sooner than you think."

Theodore laughed and tapped Draco's cheek insolently, using the metal of the ring to emphasize the move. "Come on, now, Draco. I know you wouldn't hurt _me_."

"Give me the ring."

"What?" Theodore recoiled, and then chuckled nervously. "Great joke. Come on, it's seven and breakfast is starting. Blaise is off in another House; he was meeting Joan from Ravenclaw today. I'm supposed to help you down."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I don't need any help. As a prefect, I'm confiscating your things. Hand them over, now. And twenty points from Slytherin because I don't like you right now."

Theodore, looking red in the face, removed the ring and dropped it in Draco's outstretched palm. "You—are a very evil person Draco Malfoy." And he stomped off, presumably to breakfast.

"You too, luv!" Draco called after him. He fingered the ring, and then pocketed it. No need to wear something that might make him seem conceited. Jewelry tended to do that often.

"Draco! Need help?"

He looked up and found one of the sixth years, Malcolm Baddock, grinning at him. Draco reminded himself that this was the same crazy Malcolm Baddock that had managed to drive Snape so mad that no matter how bad he got, Snape refused to assign Malcolm detentions with him. This was also the same Baddock that, despite earlier suspicions, was dating Ginny Weasley and truly seemed to like her.

"Promise you won't kill me?"

"I can't say anything. If the urge should strike…"

Draco rolled his eyes and stood, albeit a little shakily, and grabbed his crutches. "Get my knapsack and walk with me. Don't touch anything inside—BADDOCK!"

Malcolm was already rummaging through it. Draco surreptitiously fingered his wand, and muttered a spell under his breath. He watched in satisfaction as Malcolm's hair turned a delightful shade of shocking pink, and grew distinct breasts. Malcolm didn't notice, and he motioned for Draco to follow him as they headed past the entrance.

"Oi, Baddock! Wanna spend a night with me?"

_Why I love Hogwarts_, Draco smiled.

_**At least twenty feet from Great Hall**_

_**7:25 AM**_

The assorted first years watched in curiosity as Draco Malfoy limped down the hallway, cursing avidly. He was using the wall for support, as both his crutches seemed to have magically—disappeared. Although, considering this was Hogwarts after all…

"Mr. Malfoy?" One of the Gryffindor first years asks tentatively. He and the others around him were told to wait and laugh by some others coming this way; they said entertainment was heading over here.

Draco looked up, and all of them quailed under his intense gaze. "What?"

"We were—we were—they told us something funny was coming down here!" Said a Slytherin, suddenly confident that Draco wouldn't hurt one of his own.

The little Slytherin girl was soon proved wrong, however, as Draco's face twisted and he glared at her with deep loathing. Suddenly, his face softened, and he motioned for her to come closer.

"Here, help me to the doors and I'll tell you what the secret is." The first years missed the calculating look on his face as they all hurried to let him lean on them. They chattered in excitement, much to his annoyance, but when he was at the door he leaned against it, and smirked calmly at them.

"Now, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but there are free unicorn rides being given away in the middle of the Forbidden Forest."

Several of them squealed, but one Ravenclaw with red hair that reminded Draco of a Weasley held up his hand. "We're not supposed to go near there! Professor Dumbledore said so."

"Well, now he's changed his mind."

"But wouldn't he tell us?"

Draco was rapidly losing his patience. "Well, someone overrode his decision who's more powerful than him and has decided that you all can go."

"Oh yeah?" the Ravenclaw replied. "Who's that?"

Draco muttered something that sounded a lot like _bloody Ravenclaws, thinking they're better because of their stupid common room_ and wished that when Malcolm had taken his stuff, he had neglected to take Draco's wand too. Thankfully, a dreamy-eyed Gryffindor answers for him.

"Shame on you, Thomas!" she says, her dark hair whipping round her face. "Of course it would be _Harry Potter_!" The other first years nod encouragingly, and she looks adoringly up at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, my name is Zoë Zabini."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "No relation to Blaise Zabini?" he asked wearily.

"Oh, of course yes!" Zoë nodded. "He's my older cousin! And his sister's my other older cousin! And my twin Zack is here too, he's in Slytherin, though."

"Oh, my God, isn't your family starting to outnumber the Weasleys?" Draco groaned. Zoë either ignored him or didn't hear him. Instead she threw her arms wide, eyes twinkling.

"Go! I'll catch up with you all later! Come on, to the Forbidden Forest!" As they all dispersed quickly, Zoë turned back to Draco and offered him an impish wink.

"Oh, and Cousin Blaise says that you're going to be really busy for a while, so you won't see us around for a long time."

"What?"

She coughed lightly, and blushed. "Er…he said something about Harry Potter and you, but you know how he is!" She took off running, calling a good-bye behind her.

Draco allowed himself one moment to consider the possibilities of that sentence, what she was implying and what he was suddenly very much _aching_ to do—

But then he turned to the doors, flung them open, nearly falling over as he did so. But he just happened to crash into one very surprised Harry Potter, who seemed to be blocked by the one person Draco was itching to maul at the moment.

Harry instinctively caught Draco, holding onto him and wrapping his arms around the Slytherin's midriff as he bent his knees to support their weight. A heavy silence fell in the hall, and Draco's cheeks tinged pink as Harry rapidly pulled him up so he could stand on his own, and he turned.

And endless sea of eyes stared back at him, and Draco blinked a moment before becoming furious. He turned, and searched out the form of his best friend, who just happened to be hiding behind the laughing Malcolm Baddock. His crutches were leaning against Malcolm's thigh.

"_BLAISE ZABINI!"_

And the laughing stopped.

* * *

Grrr...upset with myself. Cannot find any inspiration whatsoever to get off my lazy arse and type. Lifeblood might go on an official hiatus, as well as Objective and Overshadowing Padders is just WAY beyond me. I've ditched my Sailor Moon fics, and I feeel terrible because I was starting to have a fan following there. And ALICIA BLADE reviewed one of my fics. I remember feeling particularly enthralled when I heard that. 

Ok. I suppose now I'm just ranting because I'm so utterly lost and I actually spent a WEEK working on this chapter. And it still sucks. What's going on with me?

Bonzai and luff to: **ronslilprincess, shannan, iread2much, jamaloo** (Yes, I'd like to think that I - er, Draco that is, is quite a smartwit when it comes down to it. BTW, thanks so much for the reviews. Seeing you review Sonno made me go "Lackwit! Ye've still got to post stuff up!" So be recognized.) **AnGeLoFmErCeY94, MidnightsRose, TeenageGemini, dark-angel905, and mayfaire.

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**  



	5. In Which There Is Romantical Frustration

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

**in which there is romantical frustration (1)**

**issalee **

_**

* * *

Thursday, December 5th **_

_**8:30 AM **_

_**Lower hallways, towards Great Hall**_

"Potter," Draco said, blinking blearily. "Remind me to never, ever do anything that involves you again."

Harry shot him a glance, albeit a lethargic one. "You're the one that got us detention, Malfoy. What kind of idiot jumps his best friend and attempts to kill him with crutches?"

Draco didn't answer.

Harry sighed. "Malfoy, look, I'm sorry I socked you but I was terrified you'd kill Blaise. And even Snape said that you were going a little over the bend. Look at it this way; at least we can skip first classes."

"Double CoMC and Herbology? Hardly anything to skip, when I've got Arithmancy and Advanced Potions right after lunch. Plus, Potter, the only reason we are missing these classes is so that we could clean all of these stupid, stupid _bathrooms_." Draco said this all in one, hissing breath, and Harry glanced at him in surprise, then rolled his eyes.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot. Malfoys just _don't_ clean bathrooms."

Draco glared at him. "Oh, and _you_ do?"

Harry thought about his summers at Privet Drive, working probably just as hard as a house-elf, if not harder, and his hours. Up at dawn and asleep around midnight. He suddenly began to develop a headache, and pressed his fingers to his forehead. Draco smirked at him.

"Oh, Potter, already getting tired?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said.

"You know what you need, Potter?" Draco said, deciding to sneak in some of his mission. "A girlfriend. Someone to—help you out, when you need it."

"I don't want one," Harry said irritably.

"A boyfriend, then?" Draco mused, dancing almost absently out of Harry's grasp. "Never knew you swung that way, Potter…"

"I don't!" Harry said, horrified. "I fancy girls, Malfoy, _girls_. I'm nothing like you, you annoying ponce."

"Denial befits you, Potter," Draco retorted. "And besides, this is perfect. Seeing as you have now admitted that you like boys—"

"I never!"

"—we can finally get on with this." Draco smiled wanly. "We have enough time as it is. How many more detentions is it, Potter?"

Harry scowled at him. "Since _someone_ sent all the first years into the forest and nearly got them all eaten by Arag—er, a troop of Acromantulas, and in _my_ name, no less, we have two more weeks' detention. Mornings Thursdays and Fridays and Saturday detentions as well."

"Perfect," Draco said, smiling happily. "And, Potter, I've decided that you're coming with me to the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match this Saturday after detention."

Harry glanced at him askance. "And what makes you think I'll be going with you, Malfoy?"

"Because I've got a plot, and you _always_ want to know what my plots are."

Harry muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'never hit a cripple' and then shot off for the Gryffindor Tower. Humming lightly, Draco set off for Slytherin…and a bath.

* * *

_**Slytherin Common Rooms**_

_**9:45 AM**_

"So…attack him directly?" Blaise repeated, eyeing Draco with new interest. "And what exactly are you planning on doing to…_attack _him directly?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but Draco ignored it.

"More comments about Granger and Weasley, and about everything he's interested in. Such as my idea for the match on Saturday."

Blaise sighed. "You weren't listening to your Mindstreamer, were you?"

Draco gave him a pointed look.

"Sod," Blaise chided. "You're supposed to be getting on Potter's good side! Use all those things but use them nicely! Compliment his friends—"

"What? And get Weasley's hopes up?"

"Granger, then," Blaise amended. "But at least do something for the littlest Weasel. Hit on her a little or something. And have him lighten up about the Dark Lord. No one's dared mention it in front of him but you wouldn't have any problems twisting that, now would you? Hell, play around with the professors, or your _own_ image! You've got free reign!"

There was a moment of silence after the outburst, and Draco's eyes took on a glittering quality Blaise knew meant trouble.

"You might be worth more than comic relief after all, Zabini," the blonde murmured. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, you ponce."

* * *

_**9:55 AM**_

"Ta, Blaise!" Draco called. He smirked jauntily as he strode out of the common room, and waved the wall shut. Behind him, Blaise inched his way towards the door, which was quite hard to do considering the ropes tied around his wrists and waist. And the bewitched Millicent Bulstrode who had decided he was her new playboy.

"Come here, Hun," she said.

Blaise's eyes widened and he attempted to speak around the gag in his mouth. "Mmph! Mmrph!"

But as Millicent advanced steadily on him, he decided that friendship be damned, Draco Malfoy would _get his_.

As soon as he changed his pants.

* * *

_**Friday, December 6th **_

_**Kitchens**_

_**10:30**_

"Potter," Draco said conversationally. "Are you dating the Weasel's sister?"

Harry nearly choked on the smoothie he'd managed to get Dobby to brew for him. "What the hell kind of question is _that_, Malfoy?"

"An innocent one without any malicious fastenings whatsoever. Sort of."

Harry rolled his eyes. They'd finished late today, too late to get to the Great Hall and have at least some breakfast, and so with some reluctance, they had descended together to the kitchens.

"So, Potter, what is it?" Draco said, eyes wide with curiosity. "Can it be that you've decided to follow in the Weasel's ancestral footsteps and marry the Weaselette—and then shag like bunnies hopped up on MD?"

"_What?_" Harry cried in disbelief. "Malfoy, I ought to sock you now—wait. What's MD?"

"Magical Drugs, Pothead, nothing you need to worry about." Draco waved a dismissive hand. "So, then, you're single? And she is too?"

"Yes," Harry said irritably. "What's it got to do with you?"

Draco shrugged, but as Harry looked down (cross-eyed) at his drink, he missed the blonde's sly smile, and the silent paroxysms of laughter.

Poor Harry…

* * *

_**Saturday, December 6th**_

_**Quidditch Pitch (Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff)**_

**_1st Match of the Year_**

_**3:45 (Game mid-over)**_

_**Ravenclaw-240…Hufflepuff-190**_

Eros Mallory, Ravenclaw seeker, was the first person to sight it. He'd been quite intent of catching the Snitch at first, but by his second near-collision with a Bludger he was starting to lag behind. He allowed himself the chance to fly out of harm's way and glance around the pitch, if only because Hufflepuff's seeker was terrible.

And then he saw it.

It had started out shimmering lightly in the air, green and almost indistinguishable from the grass, until it darkened to a near-black color and Eros realized it was floating in mid-air. Actually, _they_. Letters, forming a sentence.

"And _ooh_, Carter just missed the Quaffle, but it looks like Dermott is giving him a run for his money! Look at Marie Kai's form out there! It's a damn good one, I must say, with curves in all the right places and—Merlin—a nice set of—"

Seamus Finnegan, new announcer for Hogwart's Quidditch games, cut himself off as he caught sight of the words as well. "In Circe's name…what is that floating out over the pitch?"

"It looks like a sentence…I can make out an exclamation point as well!" Seamus stood excitedly, despite a very red-faced McGonagall threatening for him to continue with the game while they got this sorted out.

Seamus, being himself, of course, was going to do no such thing.

* * *

_**Same Time**_

_**Inside Castle**_

_**Northwestern Halls**_

"I can't believe," Draco gasped as he sprinted down the corridor, with Harry close behind him, "that Snape would keep us for that long. He _knew_ there was a match, and he _still_ made us clean his damned tubes!"

"We wouldn't have had to if you'd managed to keep your mouth shut to those kids, Malfoy, and kept your hands to yourself!"

Draco slowed till he was next to Harry, and looked the Gryffindor in the eye. "You know, Potter, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you hated me."

Harry gaped at him, mouth open in shock. He was so shocked in fact that he immediately stopped running. Draco skidded to a halt as well and turned around, glaring fiercely at Harry for good effect.

"Come _on_, Potter, the game's nearly over and I want to see if my spell worked!" He pouted and crossed his arms across his chest. "Don't tell me you're winded!"

Harry shook his head. "Malfoy, what do you mean 'I'd think you hated me'? I _do_ hate you. I've hated you since first year!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, you hate me. You are a hater, I am the hatee, and we are arch-enemies meant to kill each other in the heat of ferocious battle someday over who gets the last muffin at breakfast—is this really that important, Potter?"

"That's not what I meant!" Harry said. "I don't want to _kill_ you, Malfoy. Sometimes I feel like killing you, but mostly that's just anger talking. What's gotten into you? You're so—weird!"

The Slytherin muttered something under his breath, and then with a quick, decisive glance at his watch, he marched over and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling the other boy closer to him.

"Potter, we can argue as long as we want but it doesn't change anything, trust me," Draco murmured. "What I _can_ do, however, is promise you that we can finish this argument—later. Now, we have something to do so _come on_."

Without another word he tugged on Harry's hand, dragging the oddly complying Gryffindor to the pitch.

* * *

_**3:50 PM**_

_**Quidditch Pitch**_

Draco had to forcibly pummel several people in order to get to the top of the row of Slytherin stands, and by then he was out of breath. It took him a moment to regain it, and as he was panting, he realized a silence had unfolded.

"Malfoy—what the hell?"

Draco surreptitiously moved out of the grasp of the Gryffindor as he looked out over the field.

In sparkly, hot pink and cursive handwriting, the words _Harry Potter Loves the Cock_ were written in impressively large letters. Draco cracked a large grin at his efforts, just as the crowd began to react.

Most of it was jeering, from he Gryffindor side, and a few outspoken Hufflepuffs. Then there was the raucous laughter of the Slytherins and the obvious snickers from Ravenclaw side. Everyone in Slytherin had looked directly at Harry, sneering insults forming quickly on their lips.

Draco was in the midst of turning to see Harry's reaction when something jerked at his hand. It took him a moment to register what was happening, and by the time he realized who had his hand he was halfway back to the castle already.

"Potter!" he spat. "I was in the middle of enjoying your very much humiliating and amusing demise! What the hell happened?"

"Malfoy," Harry said, grinding his teeth together. "Just once, I'd like to deck you and see you not get up. Just once, I'd like to find out what was under all that petty cloth and Malfoy mannerisms, and all the fake Slytherin trappings."

Draco was confused. "Um, Potty, would you like to go to the infirmary? I've got this wonderful lady who can help you out, but I'm sure you've met her already, she's a bit batty."

"Forget it," Harry said, rolling his eyes. And then, for good measure, he took his wand from his pocket. "Malfoy, someday I'm going to have you screaming for me to forgive you for this."

"Ooh, Potter, foreshadowing something? A bit too interested in Trelawney, now aren't we?" Draco smirked triumphantly as Harry heaved an exasperated sigh and spun on his heel, marching away. Draco made as if to return the match, but Harry's voice calling his name forced him to stop.

"What?" he said irritably.

It was as much as he got out before he heard the words for the Bat-Bogey hex and everything went black. Someday, Draco swore he would slowly disembowel and behead whoever had thought up the damn thing.

* * *

_**Sunday, December 7th**_

_**Slytherin Locker Rooms**_

_**2:30 PM**_

Draco growled as he shoved on his dragonhide boots, feeling as angry as he could possibly get. This was a four-whiskey-glass day, he decided.

After being hit by Potter's stupid hex he'd been in bed for most of the day and only by sneaking out of the infirmary had he managed to attend Quidditch practice without drawing suspicion to himself.

He had been so distracted, seething as his stupid loss, that he eventually was forced to being completely and totally centered on his own body just to distract him (he figured, it worked to distract others; why not him?).

His plan backfired, of course.

When Snape came down to find him, on orders of Madame Pomfrey, he'd found all of Slytherin's Quidditch team yelling at an obstinate Draco.

"What is the matter here?" Snape had yelled irately.

Draco smiled winningly. "Oh, Professor, these bumbling oafs just don't understand the complexity and beauty of the human body!"

"Malfoy!" shouted Abigail Lennox, one of their Chasers and a sixth-year. "Nobody cares how great your ass looks in Quidditch gear! _Nobody!_ And I'll be bloody well pissed six ways to Sunday and back before I ever come to a practice where all you do is talk about it."

Sitting alone in the empty locker rooms, Draco filed away a note to incinerate the girl's hair. Snape had ended up giving him an unbelievably long lecture on how idiotic his behavior was turning ("reminiscent only of a Gryffindor's such as Potter…") and then publicly reminded Draco of his detentions, of which the Potions master ensured Draco he wouldn't hesitate to add on more. _With Potter._

"Fuck!" Draco cursed for the nth time as he realized his hands were trembling so much with rage that he could barely button his shirt. He needed something else to distract him, to force all thoughts of Potter, Snape, Potter, detentions, and especially Potter from his mind.

And he had the perfect idea.

* * *

_**Monday, December 8th**_

_**7:27 AM**_

_**Great Hall, Breakfast**_

_**Gryffindor Table**_

Harry had still been quite drowsy as he sat down to breakfast, but all the sleep disappeared from his eyes as he realized something odd.

There was no one sitting at the Slytherin table, no one at all, save for Draco Malfoy. The blond was calmly buttering his toast, idly poring over a newspaper as he did so. Nothing on his face betrayed any emotion whatsoever, and it seemed as though he hadn't yet noticed he was sitting by himself.

"Hey," Seamus whispered across the table, eyes gleaming. "It looks like Malfoy's gone and outdone himself. It must have taken him all night!"

"To what? Shag everyone so senseless they had to stay in bed this morning?" Dean hazarded a guess worthy of Seamus' mind, and was rewarded with a high five from his best friend.

"Nah, mate, but it would've been just as cool. What Malfoy there seems to have done is hidden _all_ of his housemate's most valuable possessions."

"Malfoy stole their jewelry?" Ron asked, confused.

"No," Seamus said. "The one thing they absolutely _needed_, which was the least spelled and protected because they wouldn't think anyone would steal it."

"Their wands?" Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. "It couldn't have been, their magical signatures are all over them, and I've heard whatever it is that's missing the professors have been searching all morning. They can't be sure Malfoy did it, thought, which is why he's left alone."

"Bloody smart," Harry muttered into his pumpkin juice.

"It was really smart," Seamus said, just as a cacophony arose at the Gryffindor table.

"Harry!" Ron said, scandalized. "Did you just compliment the Ferret?"

"He's learning to forgive and forget, Ron, something you haven't mastered yet." Ginny rapped her knuckles onto the table as though she'd just remembered something. "That's right, you're still learning to count past one hundred, aren't you?"

"Hey!"

"Don't be mean to your brother just because you're smarter than him, Ginny," Hermione mumbled absently. Ron gaped at her.

"Hermione! I can't believe you just said that!"

Harry glanced back and forth between the two. "Please don't start fighting. It's too early. Seamus, just tell us what it is already."

"Can't. You've got to guess."

"Seamus."

"Seamus."

"What?"

"He's doing it on purpose, Harry, ignore him!"

"Ron, can you please remind that little nut called your brain that Harry doesn't want to _ignore_ Seamus, he wants to find out what Seamus is talking about!"

"Ron! _Put the butter knife down!_"

"But Hermione, did you hear what she said?"

"Guys, are you guessing or what?"

"Was it their quills?" Neville entered the conversation unexpectedly, followed quickly by Lavender Brown.

"No, Neville, it must have been their makeup! Those Slytherins just _can't_ have that pale skin naturally!"

"Don't turn this into a beauty contest, Lav."

"Seamus, do us all a favor and shut up. You're the most conceited person in Gryffindor."

"What, not in the world? Big-headed wanker."

"Ron!"

"What? What? _What?_ Hermione, don't give me that look!"

"It's the only look she's able to give you, Ron, one of pure disgust…"

"_What _did I say about that knife, Ronald?"

"Seamus, tell us!"

"No can do, Harry, not till they stop fighting. Dean, mate, what do you think?"

"Their socks?"

"I don't think they need socks that badly, Dean."

"You sure love yours, Harry."

"Dobby made them."

"Because a vomit-colored dwarf with ears the size of Africa knit you socks and banged its head against an oven for you a few times, you'd wear them?"

"Well…yeah…"

"Our little hero!"

"Ginny, that comment about the vomit-colors was not appreciated amongst the house-elves."

"Oh, God, Hermione, not UPCHUCK again."

"SPEW."

"VOMIT?"

"SPEW."

"HEAVE?"

"SPEW."

"GAG?"

"Oh, Merlin, shut up!" Harry slammed his hands on the table, forcing those around him to stop talking. Ginny gave him a very meaningful look which made him regret she wasn't shy and managed to talk to him now, before she looked expectantly at Seamus.

"Well?" she said slowly. "What was it?"

"Seamus grinned triumphantly. "If you find this genius, you all have to show your appreciation for the master that is Draco Malfoy."

"Spare us your wet dreams, Finnegan." Dean placed a melodramatic hand over his forehead, and laughed when Seamus elbowed him.

"Agreed?" The Irishman grinned as everyone nodded, and leaned in.

* * *

_**7:45**_

Across the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy looked up as Gryffindor table suddenly began clapping and waving and hooting in his general direction. Puzzled, Draco merely gave them a faint smirk before looked back to his food in a perplexed manner.

All he had done was hex away all his housemates' underwear, Merlin…

* * *

Eh...

sorrysorrysorry for being late. Writer's block is a bizotch.

And...

um...

GO APOLLO! (that was for the Olympics, just in case you didn't know. Shaun, baby, I'm rooting for you too!)

And that was also the reason I couldn't update anything, because Solizlet held me ransom as she drooled over Shaun White. For the WHOLE THING. Other than that, I've got nothing, so sorries all around.

* * *


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